In the early 1980s, one of the biggest shows on British TV was a science-fiction thriller about giant alien plants which wandered about and ate people.
Day of the Triffids, based on the 1951 John Whyndham novel, terrified a generation of young impressionable viewers – myself included.
Although I was too young to watch it, I remember catching a glimpse of a scene where an army of killer plants shuffled through a Middle England cul-de-sac, spitting venom at anyone in their path.
Around the same time, the government was running a campaign to warn children about another invasive species which could burn and, yes, even blind you if you came into contact with it.
There were large, bright orange posters around our school warning us about these real life Triffids, also known as giant hogweed.
Naturally, in my mind the two species were one and the same. So if, on my walk to primary school I happened to notice some hogweed swaying on the horizon, you can be certain that I leggged it in the opposite direction.
Over the years, I have learned to live with hogweed. I don’t bother it, and it doesn’t bother me.
But it’s important to remember that this stuff (actually a carrot, fact fans) can be a real hazard.
We might not have the big orange posters anymore, but we are regularly reminded of the dangers.
Last week, we reported on how a pet dog Katana was left badly burnt after walking through some human-sized weeds near her home in Perth.
Owner Leonie decided to speak out, to warn others about the plants which have been popping up along riverside walks and unkempt corners of housing estates.
Worryingly, the area where Katana was burned is a popular play area for local youngsters.
Maybe children are more clued-up these days, and we don’t need government-funded public safety adverts on TV and on school noticeboards.
But those campaigns were undoubtedly effective. As a child of the late 1970s, I would never have dreamed of throwing a frisbee into a power station, jumping into a stagnant duck pond or swimming with Rolf Harris.
Those lessons have stood me in good stead, and I still won’t go near hogweed.
